Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1192 - 579

"Click, click, click!"

With startling synchronization, the dozen or so soldiers who had seemed at ease moments ago immediately transitioned into a state of combat readiness. The metallic clatter of bolt-action rifles rang out in unison, and menacing gun barrels swung swiftly to pin Fang Cheng and the vehicles ahead and behind him in their sights.

The female officer, who had previously been inclined to let them pass, suddenly trembled as the color drained from her face.

Reflexively, she recoiled two steps, her right hand darting nervously toward the quick-draw holster at her hip. The friendly demeanor she had displayed vanished, replaced by sheer panic, and her frantic movements caused her to nearly collide with the nearby security barrier.

Her escort, a male soldier, stood even more rigid. With his finger tensed against the trigger, he swung his barrel erratically across the surrounding traffic and barked a stern command: "Nobody move! Place your hands upon your heads and remain inside your vehicles!"

The alarm sounding from the walkie-talkies continued to wail incessantly.

With a heavy "clack," the checkpoint barrier plummeted, once again sealing the road completely.

The tension at the scene escalated to a breaking point, as if the air itself might burst at the slightest provocation.

Almost at that exact moment, a low rumble resonated from above, mimicking the approach of distant thunder.

Fang Cheng cast his gaze upward.

He observed three dark silhouettes emerging from beneath the faraway clouds, their forms steadily growing in size. They were military-grade armed helicopters painted in a stark iron gray.

The 30mm cannons fixed to their underbellies glinted with a freezing light under the sun, while the rocket pods flanking the fuselages were packed tight like honeycomb cells. This was clearly the military's rapid response force flying in a rigid triangular formation.

Trapped motorists on the road recoiled into their seats, terrified of drawing a breath, fearing that an errant shot might find them.

Fang Cheng kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel, wearing an expression of perfectly calculated confusion and anxiety. He played the part of a mere citizen caught in a situation far beyond his understanding.

However, beneath his facade of fear, his mind remained razor-sharp.

The pupil scan had certainly cleared him. The machine had not sounded an alarm, and the officer had verified he was a "normal human." If that were the case, why did the reaction of the "Hunting Dog" seem even more violent than before?

He reminded himself that although his current physical form was formidable, it was the product of disciplined training and consistent internal development. He possessed no connection to the Blood Clan, was not a mutant, and had never resorted to illicit drugs or artificial augmentations. Even the standard definition of a "mutant" could hardly be applied to a cultivator of his caliber. Truly, Fang Cheng and the killer White Owl recorded in the official files were not of the same species.

What possible reason could that beast have for detecting his scent from that distance?

Unless... the thing it was tracking wasn't "human" at all.

Fang Cheng’s eyes flickered, his gaze sweeping discreetly toward the blue athletic bag resting on the passenger seat. Tucked deep within its inner pocket lay the crimson Evil Ghost Mask. An epiphany struck him with crystalline clarity.

It was the mask.

The creature trained as a "Search Hound" had not picked up the scent emanating from his own skin. Instead, it had locked onto the lingering, pungent bloodstain on the mask—a relic that had claimed countless lives. Moreover, it likely sensed the malevolent, crushing aura from that fateful night in the Inner World that still clung to it. It was the distinct imprint of the "Lord of Slaughter."

That was the only explanation for the creature's unhinged response.

Having identified the source of the problem, the rest was manageable. Fang Cheng swept a glance over the heavy military presence outside, then leaned back and slowly let his eyelids drift shut.

The clamor of the physical realm faded away like a receding tide, replaced gradually by an expanse of blinding radiance. His consciousness dropped instantly into the depths of his Inner World.

Beneath him stretched the familiar, desolate island anchored by a majestic golden palace, all shrouded in flowing, ethereal clouds. Typically, a brilliant, eternal sun hung high in this space, bathing everything in a sacred and solemn brilliance. Yet now, beneath that holy golden light, there stirred a subtle, nauseating metallic stench. It was the scent of carnage and curdled blood, attempting to leak from the darkest reaches of the island and taint this sanctified ground.

Fang Cheng floated in mid-air, a frown creasing his brow, and commanded in a low, resonant tone: "Show yourself!"

He flicked his hand, and the golden sun behind him plummeted into shadow. It was swapped for a massive, ghastly crimson full moon—a celestial body that erupted from the sea of clouds unbidden, staking its claim in the sky. Instantly, the entirety of his Inner World seemed to be drowned in thick, fresh blood. The golden architecture turned a bruised red, and the once-tranquil clouds began to churn like a crimson ocean. A faint, violent, and bloodthirsty spiritual ripple permeated the air.

This was the true visage of the Evil Ghost Mask. It was never merely an inanimate object but a vessel overflowing with infinite grievances and murderous malice. Even when Fang Cheng refrained from wearing it, the spiritual radiation it emitted acted like a beacon in the night. In a realm populated by fragile humans, its presence was blinding to any entity possessing heightened senses.

Fang Cheng descended steadily onto the obsidian-tiled plaza, staring at the blood moon that was attempting to dominate his psyche. "I had been too preoccupied with worldly distractions to deal with your antics, yet you dare cause trouble for me already," he scoffed coldly. His form shimmered, and he reappeared instantaneously upon the Golden Throne hidden within the heart of the palace. He sat down with imperial grace, resting his palms upon the armrests as a single thought ignited.

Boom! In a heartbeat, the whole of the Inner World roared to life. Endless waves of golden light surged outward from every corner, rushing to suppress the encroaching dark.